


conceal the night with disregard

by foggys_cupcake_girl



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Age Changes, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Police, Bottom Original Percival Graves, Cinnamon rolls in love, Credence is 38, Cree is a lil insecure, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Getting Together, I think so anyway, M/M, Miami Vice AU, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Partners to Lovers, Percy is 26, Shameless Smut, Spanking, Surprise Kissing, Top Credence Barebone, ageswap, but like also cute smut, but with older Cree, buuuut Percy loves him anyway, it's 2:00 AM why in the flying hell am I posting fic, little bit of political snark, pretend kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 05:42:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28665672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foggys_cupcake_girl/pseuds/foggys_cupcake_girl
Summary: A fake kiss during a stakeout reveals unexpected feelings between seasoned DEA agent Credence Barebone and his newly promoted partner Percy Graves.(Or, sometimes you just have to write a PWP Miami Vice AU with ageswapped Percy and Cree, because heck it's 2021 that's why.) ;)
Relationships: Credence Barebone/Original Percival Graves
Comments: 7
Kudos: 26





	conceal the night with disregard

**Author's Note:**

> MIAMI VICE AU Y'ALL. Because why not ^_^
> 
> This one goes out to writingramblr, who gave me the idea for the ageswap, and iPumperdiddle for being the best cheerleader ever. <3 <3 <3 
> 
> Note: this is AGESWAPPED Gradence y'all, with Adam Driver as older!Cree. Percy is the cutiepie rookie, Cree is the bamf older cop. Just wanted to switch it up a little. ;)
> 
> Title is from "Swimming in Miami" by Owl City.
> 
> Enjoy! ^_^
> 
>   
> 

The lights in the club are rainbowy and bright, headache-inducing to anyone over the age of 22, and combine flawlessly with the smell of cheap alcohol and cheaper perfume. Honestly, Percy Graves thinks a bit grumpily as he lets himself be knocked about by the crowd of shrieking college kids on the dance floor, this is the perfect hideout for a drug lord. God knows if he had the money he’d be anywhere but here tonight.

Percy and his new partner, senior DEA agent Credence Barebone, have been tailing the drug ring led by a mysterious man known as the Deathly Hallow for a few months now. This guy isn’t just a kingpin. He’s a _Kingpin,_ like, the guy in _Daredevil_ kind of kingpin. He’s got a finger in every pie: drugs, prostitution, arms, you name it. Percy’s even heard the guy has some skin in the organ-theft game.

He shudders at the thought and takes a real drink of the mojito he’s only been pretending to sip all night.

Credence notices and rests a hand on his shoulder. “You okay?”

Percy straightens up and tries to look tough. He’s not used to long-game raids like this, going undercover and trying to blend in for three, four weeks at a time. He’s used to getting intel, going in, getting what he wants and getting the fuck out. Trying to pretend to be tourists makes him nervous. But he doesn’t want his new partner to know that.

Credence Barebone is thirty-eight and built, not to put too fine a point on it, like a brick shithouse. He is _massive,_ and unfortunately, well, Percy kind of loves that. But it’s not just his muscles that make him desirable. It’s the kindness in his eyes, the fullness of his mouth, the way he looks so sweet and almost small when he sleeps.

Percy might have something of a crush, which sucks because he _really_ doesn’t want that kind of drama in his life. But God, it’s so hard when Credence rests a hand on his shoulder, looks at him through those gorgeous dark eyes, and says things like, “I’ve got your back. You know that, right?”

“I’m good. Really,” Percy insists.

“Maybe,” Credence replies calmly, “but it’s tough doing shit like this the first time.” He nods to the target they’re watching, now with his back to them, paying some serious attention to what Percy hopes is a date and not a hooker. “He’s armed. I can see the outline of his gun.” He narrows his eyes. “Looks like a glock 9mm. Unregistered, of course. Fuck these NRA jackasses. You know, if we were in the UK, we could get him for that alone.”

Percy can’t stop himself from smiling. Credence may actually be the first hardcore liberal DEA agent he’s ever met. “Well, of course he’s armed. Might’ve slipped your mind, but he’s an arms dealer.”

Credence rolls his eyes. “Don’t be an asshole,” he says in a tone so fond it may as well be a proposal. “I just mean—you have to know to look for these things.”

Percy sulks a little and gnaws moodily on the straw of his mojito while Credence makes a little show of taking his cigarette case out and lighting one. Really, Percy knows, he’s using the mirror in the lid to get a look at the bartender, who they suspect is on the Deathly Hallow’s payroll. The bartender makes a gin gimlet and sends it to the man’s table. Credence eyes the bartender, while Percy watches the poor waiter take the drink over to DH’s table and get completely, totally flustered when the elegant, kindly, silvery-haired man slips what Percy strongly suspects is a $100 directly into the pocket of his vest.

“I wish you wouldn’t talk to me like I’m a rookie,” is what Percy finally settles on saying a minute later. “You know—I’ve _done raids_ before. I just haven’t done one of these fun little three-week playacting jobs where we have to sit on our hands and pretend we’re on our goddamn honeymoon or some shit while the target runs around doing whatever the fuck he wants.”

Credence snorts and puts away the cigarette case. “Well, I hate to tell you baby,” he says with a grin, and Percy rolls his eyes even as his cock twitches at Credence calling him _baby,_ “but we’re going to be stuck ‘sitting on our hands’ until he makes a mo—” He freezes. “Fuck. Fuck, he’s coming to the bar and he’s looking up, he’s—oh, okay now—” He quickly turns and puts a protective arm around Percy.

“Is he coming at us?” Percy is ready, his hand automatically sliding down his side to reach for his gun, but Credence quickly stops him, gripping his wrist tight.

 _“You can’t shoot in here, there are innocent people,”_ Credence hisses, dropping his head down so that his entire body is covering Percy’s. “Fuck, he’s looking right at us now—”

“So we take him in!”

“On what charges, terrible taste in drinks? He’s not doing anything wrong at the moment, nothing we can—okay. I’m sorry about this, you can punch me later.”

“Punch you? For what?”

Before Percy can say another word, a handful of his hair has been seized, his head yanked back, and his mouth claimed in a searing kiss that shocks him to the very core.

For a hot minute he thinks he must be dreaming. No. He doesn’t get this. Not good things like this—not out of the blue without having to work for it even a little bit. He hasn’t showed any interest in Credence by design, has kept his face carefully neutral…how could Credence _know_ that Percy wants him?

Because from the way Credence is kissing him he wants Percy too. He _must._ He’s got one large hand possessively held against Percy’s lower back, the other giant hand cupping Percy’s neck, a heavy thumb stroking his cheek with the delicacy of a butterfly landing on a leaf. His body is warm and solid and reassuring, his mouth so soft and full that Percy doesn’t just feel as if he’s being kissed. He’s being _devoured,_ gently eaten alive, and his knees buckle with the force of his own emotions. But more than that, this is _sexy._ Percy is not a small man but with Credence’s considerable bulk bearing down on him he feels…vulnerable, in the absolute best way. Swept up. Completely, totally enveloped. And there’s nothing he can do except take it, and _fuck_ that’s hot.

He actually gasps when he’s let go. Like a bucket of cold water has been thrown over him. Credence steps back, breathing hard, and relaxes as he watches something across the room. “He bought it. Thank God.”

“What?” Percy feels like he’s been drugged. He shakes his head a little and some of the lusty haze clears just in time for him to see the DH (which is really a terrible codename, he thinks as he watches the glamorous older man walk away, why not _Silver Fox,_ that’d be more accurate) go back to his table and settle back into the booth with his tiny, twentysomething blonde date.

“He bought it,” Credence repeats with a relieved sigh. “Sorry about that, Agent.”

Percy winces at the sound of his title. He doesn’t want to be _agent_ to Credence, but he now realizes what just happened and it makes his stomach hurt. Credence faked the kiss so that DH wouldn’t see them and think they were tailing him. His sexy partner is not, as he’s always known, interested in boning him. Not in the slightest.

“He’s on the move again,” Credence says a minute later when DH gets a phone call. The man’s face turns thunderstorm-y as he listens to whatever’s on the other end of the line, then gets up and moves. Credence immediately follows, all but dragging Percy behind him. “Keep up, rookie,” he whispers as they creep down a hall behind the angry kingpin.

“I’m not a rookie,” Percy reminds him irritably, but Credence doesn’t hear him. He’s already got his gun drawn, badge in hand, a look of heavy determination on his face that _does things_ to Percy, and it’s go time, and as much as Percy would like to stop him and say _hey, you beautiful jackass, I think I’m falling for you and you kissed me, we need to talk,_ he has a job to do, and it’ll have to wait.

~

The fight is short and sweet. DH’s name turns out to be Gellert Grindelwald (wow, okay, that _is_ a bit of a mouthful; not that _Percival_ has any room to talk, really) and he is arrested for possession, intention to distribute, human trafficking, and several counts of accessory to murder.

So, yeah. He’s not having that good a night, obviously.

Percy tries to summon up some excitement as he and Credence head back to the hotel at nearly 2:00 AM that night. They’ll have 24 hours, they are told, to rest, pack, and tie up any loose ends, and then it’s back to Washington D.C. to give testimony, debrief, get their next assignments…it is going to be an exhausting week and Percy suddenly feels tired, so tired he could cry. He’s well acquainted with this feeling, honestly—the suddenly-receding adrenaline after a good arrest, after the thrill of the chase and the fight has drained out of him he’s always left feeling wrung-out and melancholy.

But this time…this time, somehow, it feels different.

“I’m going to grab a shower,” Credence decides as they get back to the hotel. “Is that all right, or will it keep you up?”

Percy just looks at him through tired eyes. “Do what you want. I’ll probably just pass out.”

He putters around the hotel room, packs up his few things and looks around at what’s left. With a heavy sigh he sits on the edge of the queen bed and tries not to think about how good it felt to be kissed, to be held, _overwhelmed_ by Credence, by his warmth and his mass and just his sheer presence…

Percy doesn’t fall easily. But when he does, God, he falls hard.

The shower is still running.

Percy’s heart speeds up.

_Do I dare…_

He closes his eyes. Makes himself breathe. The shower is running, and his thoughts are running away with him, and he replays the moment Credence pulled back and said _he bought it._ Was it Percy’s imagination, or did Credence maybe look a little tense?

 _You can punch me later,_ he said. Percy’s heart turns a somersault. Is he thinking too much? Or did Credence mean…was that an _I’m sorry,_ or an _I’ll make it up to you later?_

Percy’s eyes snap open and he realizes he’s on his feet. He’s moving, as if in a trance, towards the bathroom door, and his heart is racing and all he can think is that this is more terrifying than chasing down a drug lord.

The door opens. Steam spills out. The smell of vanilla sugar soap hits him and Percy almost laughs: of course Credence bigger-than-a-goddamn-linebacker Barebone would use women’s shower gel.

“Are you gonna stand there all night,” comes a voice that turns Percy’s knees to jelly, “or are you going to come in?”

He goes in. 

Credence is goddamn beautiful, water sluicing down his chest and dripping to the floor of the shower, his dark hair slicked back in a way that exposes his high forehead and makes his eyes pop. His body is solid and strong, a trail of dark hair leading down his abdomen to—no, Percy can’t look at that yet, it’s too soon, he’s already feeling _too much._ Nearly black, Credence’s hypnotic eyes sweep over Percy’s naked body, making him feel small and vulnerable all over again.

But he stands his ground. Doesn’t cringe away. He boldly lifts his eyes to meet Credence’s, head tilted up proud, almost defiant. _Do your worst._

The first kiss is deep and messy, and Percy’s head would smack against the tile wall if not for Credence gently cupping his hand around the base of his skull. It’s something small and sweetly protective, and Percy goes weak for him all over again. Credence plunders his mouth with no hesitation, no shame, and Percy’s throat opens in a desperate moan before he can stop himself.

Credence breaks the kiss, only to bury his face in Percy’s neck and drink the water from his skin. Percy gasps sharply as the older man’s teeth sink deep into the crook of his neck, pleasure shooting through him like a dart. “Please, _fuck,”_ he groans. “God, just fuck me up, will you?”

“That what you want?” Credence asks between biting kisses to his neck that send delicious tongues of flame lashing across Percy’s skin. Percy feels something against his thigh and his eyes roll back at the thought of _that_ inside him, and all he can think for a moment is that whoever came up with the idea for Bad Dragons must’ve had at least one wild night with Credence Barebone.

Fuck. He’s not going to survive being impaled on that cock, he thinks, but God, what a fucking amazing way to go.

“Yeah,” he says—moans—as Percy’s arms fully encircle him, crushing him up against that broad chest. Fuck, this man is _huge_ in every sense, and Percy thinks he could very easily get lost, if he lets himself, in the peaks and valleys of his incredible body. “Fuck me hard. Do what you want, I can take it,” he says, and thinks he means it.

But Credence is gentle with him, smoothing palmfuls of cool, slick body wash over Percy’s skin and tenderly massaging his sore thighs, kissing the back of Percy’s neck as he washes his hair, holding Percy from behind with both of those thick arms wrapped around his waist. Percy knows, again, that he is not small or fragile, but when Credence holds him like that it makes him _feel things_ and his stomach dances like a cancan girl and fuck, _fuck_ he doesn’t know if his heart can take it.

Percy dries him off after the shower, messing up his hair and teasing him with more slow, sweet kisses, and then scoops him up in those big arms, a pirate carting off his prize, and lays Percy out in bed as carefully as a lioness nuzzling her cub. “Fuck,” Percy groans as Credence kisses his chest, taking special care to lick over each nipple.

“That’s the idea,” Credence says smugly, and Percy wants to smack him. “Want to talk boundaries here?”

“Uh, if I threaten to kick you in the balls, you stop whatever it is you’re doing?”

Credence laughs and nuzzles his belly. Percy groans softly, and the sound seems to be just what Credence needs to hear because he gently parts Percy’s thighs and kneels between them. Percy takes a moment to marvel that those tree-trunk thighs even _fit_ between his spread knees before Credence leans over him on all fours and says, with an undertone of melancholy that Percy isn’t sure he likes, “I like you. Is that what this is, here, or are we just blowing off steam?”

Percy sighs, closes his eyes and lets his head roll back. “What answer does not get my ass kicked?” he says bluntly, and opens his eyes back up just in time to see the look of hurt on Credence’s face. “Fuck. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“I know what you meant,” Credence says unhappily. “I just want to know if I need to brace myself now for the _it’s not you it’s me.”_

It’s the way Credence says it—like he’s been rejected thousands of times and is just expecting Percy to reject him this time out of hand—that makes Percy stop and stare. “Who the hell would ever say that to _you?”_

“Everyone?” Credence says, like it should be obvious. “C’mon, look at me, I’m not…well, I’m not you,” he says apologetically, and when Percy continues to stare, he sighs and elaborates, “You’re, what, twenty-five, twenty-six? Look at this…” He traces the outline, faint but definitely there, of Percy’s abdominal muscles. “You’re young, you’re hot. I am…definitely not in high school anymore, let’s put it that way.”

“Why the hell would I want a high-schooler to fuck me?” Percy asks, feeling really confused now. It sounds to him, however implausible, like Credence doesn’t know how goddamn hot he is, which—does the man not own a mirror, really?

Credence reaches up and self-consciously pats his belly, which—all right, it’s a _little_ soft, but c’mon, the man is like, two hundred pounds of pure badass and he’s worried that his stomach isn’t flat? _Really?_ Percy just stares. Credence finally says, a little contritely, “I’m not young and tiny and pretty anymore, so forgive me for being a little…”

“Stupidly insecure?” Percy surges up, propping himself on his elbows to give Credence a shut-up kiss. “Credence, you moron, I’ve been crushing on you since we met. Is that what you want to hear? Because, fuck. I’ve been trying _really goddamn hard_ to hide it, so. Yeah.”

Credence’s face relaxes, a smile slowly curving those pouty lips. “Well, can’t say better than that, I guess. You did good. I didn’t know until we kissed in the club. And even then…”

“Are you shitting me? I almost died on the spot when you said _okay he bought it._ Like, Jesus…buy a man a drink before you break his heart like that,” Percy teases him, letting a little bit of his native Irish lilt slip through. He tends to fake an American accent at work, just to avoid awkward questions, but…

“Okay, rookie,” Credence teases him, laying him back again as he leans in to steal a kiss. “I’ll take your delicate, sensitive feelings into effect next time I’m trying to protect you from a kingpin.”

“I don’t need protection, you arrogant son of a—”

Before Percy can finish cussing him out, Credence has swallowed up his rant with a kiss and it’s good. Tender. But it builds to a steamy, slick make-out very quickly and Percy doesn’t hold back. He wraps both legs around that thick waist, pulls Credence in and twists both hands in the damp black hair, gulps in lungfuls of vanilla soap and the sweat beading on Credence’s clean skin. He’s lost, already drowning, his body tingling as his mind drifts in a fog of pleasure.

Credence is tall, strong, sturdy and unmovable and _gentle._ He litters bites and kisses and little kitten-licks all over Percy’s body, holds him down with one hand and teasingly strokes Percy’s aching cock with the other while Percy squirms and begs for—release, mercy, _something._ “Look at you,” Credence breathes, awed, as Percy writhes in increasingly-painful pleasure. “I could edge you all night, could you even do anything about it?”

“I hate you,” Percy groans, hips twitching as he struggles to get out of Credence’s grip. “I swear to God—”

Credence just laughs and teases the dripping head of Percy’s cock _just right,_ and that’s it. Percy comes hard, his eyes rolling up and his breath catching, pleasure crashing over him in twelve-foot waves.

When the haze clears, he shivers all over as he feels Credence’s tongue lapping at his belly and thighs. “Don’t mind me,” Credence teases him. “Just cleaning up your mess.”

“Kind of your fault,” Percy reminds him breathlessly, and then whimpers (he’d be ashamed of that sound any other day but fuck he’s too dazed to care) as he’s roughly flipped over onto his stomach. “Where the hell did you get lube?” he demands seconds later as a slick fingertip teases his rim.

“From the tooth fairy,” Credence says dryly. “I packed it, genius, what did you think?”

“Were you that sure you’d get lucky?” 

“Oh, trust me baby, this is more good luck than even one of your leprechauns could’ve gotten me.”

Percy rolls his eyes. “You do know the leprechaun thing is actually _ohhhfuck…”_

Credence has tired of the conversation and sunk a finger into Percy, and Percy can’t stop a full body shiver from running through him at the feeling. “Oh look,” Credence says smugly as he slides the finger in and out, going a little deeper each time. “I found your mute button.”

“Oh my God, _fuck you_ —oh that’s— _ahhh,_ there,” Percy groans, his face dropping into the blankets. “Credence. Jesus _Christ.”_

Credence takes his time working Percy open, with plentiful applications of lube. Percy’s relaxed a little from his first orgasm and it doesn’t take long before he’s squirming again under Credence’s gentle ministrations, even more so when Credence works up to the second finger and then, when Percy mewls for more, a third.

“I have—ooh!—some concerns,” Percy pants while Credence twists and crooks his fingers, stretching him open for that monster cock. “I think you’re—ahhh—a proper hypocrite, Agent Barebone.”

“Mmm,” Credence says, unconcerned, as he lightly massages Percy’s ass while still fingering his hole. “Why is that, exactly?”

“You were bitching about unregistered weapons earlier,” Percy begins, and then groans as Credence brushes his prostate, setting off fireworks inside him. “You…god _damn_ that feels good…you have a very dangerous weapon between your legs and I seriously doubt you’ve registered it.”

Credence bursts out laughing and smacks the ass cheek he was just rubbing. Percy yelps, first in pain and then aching, unrelenting pleasure, as Credence does it again, _while still fingering him,_ and Jesus Christ Percy thinks he might come again just from this. “You’re a real dick, you know that?” Credence says fondly, and emphasizes this point with another light smack, this one making Percy jolt in a way that brings his prostate into contact with Credence’s fingers again.

Nope. That’s it. He can’t hold on, he’s too sensitive, and as Credence continues to lightly, teasingly slap his ass, now while fingering him deep enough to massage his prostate _(God damn he is doing that on purpose!)_ Percy can’t help but rut forward into the sheets, and—

 _“Ahhhh!”_ He’s sensitive enough now that it almost hurts a little when he comes, but he still rocks back and tries to fuck himself on Credence’s fingers, drawing out the pleasure as long as he can. He feels shivery when it’s over and nearly sobs when Credence flips him onto his back. “Please—”

“Sh-h-h.” Credence pets his chest with slow, soothing strokes until he relaxes, still shivering a little, and then says, “How’re you feeling now? Want more, or are you done for the night?” He looks a little worried as he says, “Feel stretched out enough?”

“I think I would need about five years’ worth of nightly fisting to feel stretched enough for you,” Percy admits, stretching his arms up over his head and letting his back arch a little. He feels…good, he thinks, a little overstimulated maybe, but _good._ “Fuck. Yeah, I kind of still want you to fuck me, if you…want that.”

“Oh, I want. Believe me, I do,” Credence assures him. Then he pauses. “Only…I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t. I mean. You will a little, but I…like to…” Percy sighs and slumps back to the mattress, loose and relaxed. “I can take it. You should see some of the toys I’ve got at home.”

Percy can’t help but feel a little satisfied as the older man is briefly reduced to stammering and blinking helplessly before he manages to gather up his wits enough to sputter out, “I, uh. Well. Yeah, that. Uh. That’s good.”

With a giggle, Percy sits up halfway, pushing up on his elbows to get a better look at Credence’s flushed face. “So, you were saying something about— _mmph!”_

Credence snatches him up in a messy, wet kiss and pins Percy back to the bed. “Are you ready for this? Really?” he asks as he pushes Percy’s knees up and apart. “Pease, stop me if I hurt you.”

“It is going to hurt,” Percy warns him. “Seriously, I know from experience, but…it’s okay. I want it anyway, just go slow, please.”

Credence nods solemnly and pushes in slow. Percy lets his head drop back and his eyes flutter shut as he is breached by Credence’s thick, heavy cock. And oh, God…he wasn’t lying, he does have toys back home that are roughly this size and he _does_ use them, but…but there’s a difference, after all, between silicone and human flesh, and the sensation of being slowly stretched and filled to his limits is intense.

“Okay?” Credence says, about halfway in. “Does it hurt?”

It does, a little, and truthfully, Percy expected that. You don’t shove something that long and girthy up your ass without a little discomfort. “I can feel it,” he says, so that Credence doesn’t pull away, “but I like it. Keep going, please.”

He tries to relax, tries to stop fisting his hands in the sheets and making tiny, whimpery little keening noises as Credence goes in, inch by lovely inch, until all of it is in. And it _is_ in, and holy _fuck_ can Percy feel it. He loves his toys, loves to be _full,_ but this is—God, he feels trapped, almost, caged in by the solid, strong body over his, and he can feel Credence’s breath ruffle his hair, and…

He reaches up and twines his arms around Credence’s neck. “Move please,” he barely manages to gasp out. “Please. God. It’s…I need…just move, _please_ just move.”

Credence does just that, rocking his hips a few times, nice and slow, before pulling about halfway out and sliding back in, and—oh God. A mewling cry slips from Percy’s throat as Credence hits that perfect spot deep inside him, and it still hurts a little, he can still feel the stretch and ache, his muscles silently protesting, but it feels so _good._

His eyes fly open with the second, harder deep thrust, and Credence is looking at him, staring at him with the same concentration that he showed right before they arrested Grindelwald, and oh, that’s flattering, isn’t it, that he merits the same level of focus and determination as a life-or-death confrontation? He pushes a hand through that thick, shining dark hair, then strokes down the broad planes of Credence’s back with both hands. The play of muscle and skin under his hands makes him moan, and when Credence thrusts in deep again Percy cries out, his back arching, pleasure coursing through his veins and leaving him damn near helpless.

“Credence,” he breathes as the older man begins to move in and out in a steady rhythm. “Fuck, Credence, _please…”_

Credence, ever attentive, picks up the pace a little. “Easy, baby,” he cautions. “Relax. Try to just enjoy it.’

Oh, he _is_ enjoying it. Percy loves this, every bit of it, the fullness, the warmth, the way Credence’s skin feels against his and the way Credence’s scent floods his senses. His cock is twitching, exhausted _(hey idiot, how many times are we going to do this tonight?)_ but he can feel pleasure boiling under his skin, rising and ebbing, getting close to boiling over. “Faster,” he begs. “Oh—harder—oh _yeah,_ just like that, _fuck,_ so good—”

Credence slows just for a moment to drop his face into Percy’s neck. “Fuck, I’m already close…”

“Me too,” Percy pants. “Please, _fuck,_ keep moving, it’s so good. Need more, just—just like that—please—”

Credence does as he’s asked and picks up the pace, keeping himself carefully braced against the headboard as he pounds in and out, a steady, rhythmic pace now instead of those tentative thrusts, and drives Percy to near insanity when, with the hand not clinging to the headboard, he reaches down and strokes Percy’s half-hard cock with the air of one determined to end a discussion. Percy is only half-certain he _can_ come again, but his body rises to the occasion and as Credence’s rhythm stutters, his strokes becoming looser and slower, Percy feels himself building up to it, too. 

“Let go,” Credence urges him through gasping moans. “Let go, baby. ’S okay. I got you.”

And Percy _does_ let go, and it is fantastic. White overwhelms his vision as his cock bobs against his stomach. He feels the orgasm roll through him, feels his body tighten and then melt into the sheets, but hardly anything comes out. Not that it matters. He’s too lost in pleasure to care.

He floats above the clouds as he is wiped off and gently maneuvered under the blankets. He lets himself spiral down into soothing darkness with Credence’s thick arms around him, his head safely pillowed on the broad chest. “You’re so hot,” he murmurs into Credence’s soft skin. “So good. God, so good.”

“So, it was good for you?” he hears Credence ask, completely serious.

If he were more awake he might say, _uhh, did you or did you not witness the MULTIPLE ORGASMS, Agent Sex King?_ But all he does now is murmur a sleepy, “Fuck yes,” before the night closes over him and he melts into a deep, life-renewing sleep in his lover’s arms.

~

Morning finds Percy waking slowly in a semi-familiar hotel bed, just like he has for the last week or so while they’ve been in Miami…only this time, he’s not clutching a pillow and ignoring his alarm. This time, he is cradled in a pair of warm arms, his back pressed to a strong chest, his phone silent and his head miraculously clear. He rolls over and sees Credence just beginning to stir from his sleep.

“Hi,” he says stupidly when those big brown eyes open slowly. _Oh my God, what is wrong with me._

Credence wakes up slow, confused, and then realizes where he is and what it means that he and Percy are in bed together. “Oh. Hi,” he says with a laugh.

“Last night we, uh—”

“Yeah. Yeah, we did.” Credence pulls him in close. “You okay?”

“A little sore,” Percy admits as he tucks his head up under Credence’s chin. “But that’s to be expected.”

“I meant…” Credence pushed him up, just a little, enough for their eyes to meet. “Are we okay? Like. Do you want to…just leave it here in Miami, or…”

“No!” Percy says, faster than he meant. “No. I mean…you seem nice,” he finishes lamely, “and I…I liked sleeping with you. A lot.”

Credence nods and strokes Percy’s back. “So…want to do it again sometime?”

“All the time,” Percy admits, and Credence chuckles.

“Well then.” Credence shifts a little and wraps both arms around him. “You don’t want it to be a one night stand.”

“No.”

“You want me…again,” Credence confirms tentatively.

“Again,” Percy says firmly, “and fucking _again.”_

“Like. A boyfriend kind of all the time,” Credence says nervously.

Percy can’t help but laugh. Suddenly his chest is full of light, the world around him deliciously buoyant. “Yeah, Credence. A ‘boyfriend’ kind of all the time.”

And it’s a sweet moment, and seconds later when Credence rolls them over, casually pins him to the bed and kisses him it’s _great,_ but it’s still funny, Percy thinks, because he thinks that this sort of thing—going away on a drug bust together only to fall in love after a fake kiss—is the stuff that would _only_ happen to him…and he’s kind of okay with that. 


End file.
